The Bliss Conspiracy, page 4
Alexander remained silent. His knitted eyebrows, pursed lips, and protruding chin reflected his rejection of this verdict.
Nonetheless, for the first time in his life Alexander sensed a certain alarm. Was there really a hurdle in this world that he couldn’t jump over? A glass ceiling that he could never break?
No matter how much effort he invests and how much he tries, there are regions in this world reserved solely for certain people to whom he could never get close. His uncle − his guardian − never told him about this.
Now that he has just entered the arena of life, is it at all conceivable that he has been already beaten and thrown to the ground by forces stronger than he? A “knockout” in the very first round by a mysterious hand whose tricks he doesn’t understand, yet it’s enough to bring his life’s path to a halt − which until now was so comfortable, sure, and secure.
If indeed such an obstacle now appears before him, then surely there are others to be confronted along his youthful path, and what until today seemed to him to be an open world with equal opportunities, is nothing more than an illusion.
The big wide world consists of sub-worlds separated by transparent, impassable walls, even though he may try until doomsday to excel. Some natural treasures on Earth were meant exclusively for others and not for him – for instance, Anne-Marie.
Had Anne-Marie responded to Alexander’s courting, perhaps the entire course of his life would have been different. He might have become a licensed pharmacist, or perhaps the owner of a chain of pharmacies, spending his life providing medical help to others, sharing his love of mankind, enjoying the love of his wife and raising his children.
But none of that occurred. The same hurdle about which his friend Philip enlightened him, not only did not subdue his spirit, but quite the opposite. It became an idée fixe imbedded in his brain like a headless nail. A madness.
If what it takes is money in order to be respected and esteemed − lots of money − then he will make money. Nothing will stop him from doing what others are capable of doing. He will do it with clenched teeth and partial blindness, like a harnessed horse plowing the furrows with blinders that prevent his attention from wandering.
Alexander was blessed with the God-given gift of a very high IQ, far higher than that of the average person. Now that he had recruited every single ounce of it and, like a fixated laser beam, focused it on one singular thing, there was no power on earth that could stop him from attaining his goal.
The wealthy city of Geneva conferred upon Alexander the yellow bewitchment of gold, and since he was ambitious and target-oriented, the end would justify the means.
CHAPTER TEN
A stabbing back pain, bright sunbeams as sharp as spears that shone through the slats of the wooden shutters, a bitter taste in his mouth − these three things, and in that order − woke Amen from his sleep. He had ended up sleeping on the couch. As a self-respecting man, he naturally had to turn down Osnat’s offer to share her – that is, his – bed with her.
Although awake, it was doubtful that he had even slept. Throughout the night, or to be more exact, during the few hours that were left of the night since having positioned himself on the couch, Amen was preoccupied with finding a reasonably comfortable position for his body and relative calm for his mind, both of which were totally upended by that woman, a bit unhinged but exceptionally beautiful, who had shown up at his doorstep last night.
“Osnat.” He pronounced her name over and over with his dry tongue. An unusual name for a clearly unusual phenomenon.
Amen looked at his watch. Today is Saturday. He usually sleeps until 10:00 on Saturdays. He held his breath and, like a fox, tiptoed barefoot to the bedroom. The door was half-open.
Amen gently pushed the door open with his finger and peeked inside. The warm, sweet scent of freshly washed hair hit his nostrils. He squinted into the weak daylight that penetrated the heavy curtains. Yes, he could clearly make out a huddled form on his bed and generous strands of dark hair spread over the white sheet.
Suddenly the form moved slightly and moaned. Amen froze in place. He then retracted his head back between his shoulders, moved back quietly, and with silent, knee-high steps, made his way to the bathroom.
He stood in the shower under the stream of hot water for five minutes, soaping himself with the soap that she had also used, shampooing his hair with the shampoo that she, too, had used, and finally dried himself with the towel that she had dried herself with as well.
Stretching his neck as he looked into the mirror, he studied his reflection. The face of a handsome man looked back at him. Yes, certainly no less handsome than the faces of stars on magazine covers and in TV soap operas.
Amen lowered his eyes towards his belly. His physique was also quite fine. He swims twice a week at the country club… well, sometimes he skips a day, and then punishes himself with “10 more laps” the next time. Once or twice he peeked into the adjacent gym, but never went in. Wasn’t it Churchill who, on his 90th birthday, still smoking cigars, half drunk, answered in response to what the secret of his good health was, “Everything … except sports.”
Now Amen stole a glance at his tenant on the lower level. When considering this organ, and it was about time he did so, he realized that for a long time this little fellow has kept himself isolated and removed from socializing of any kind.
He put on new boxer shorts, slapped some after-shave on his cheeks, combed his hair, and then immediately messed it up a bit. He wanted to change his clothes but they were closeted in the bedroom, and there was a woman in his bed.
Amen went out to the kitchen in his underwear, turned on the electric kettle, and sat down, lost in thought.
On the face of it, and by sheer common sense, he was clearly entering a sick bed now, regardless of whether the woman was involved in a hit-and-run accident or was in far more serious trouble. It was obvious that the right thing to do would have been to call the police immediately. The fact that he hasn’t done so, and that he’s given the woman shelter for more than seven hours – a strange woman with a strange gun – makes him at best a full accomplice in a bad scene, or at worst the gullible victim of a trap.
Undoubtedly, his behavior is dangerous, irresponsible, adventurous, romantic, emotional, stupid, but he’s in love… in love?!
Hey! Hold on a minute. How? When exactly did that happen?
Yes, it’s about the woman. True, a beautiful woman. And yes, the naked body of this creature was fully exposed to him in all its glory. True, she is now huddled between his sheets. True, he promised her he wouldn’t call the cops. Yes, that was yesterday, but – and here lies the root of the great dilemma – if indeed the police come and take her away, once again he will be left with a desolate home and an empty bed.
Is he in love with her? That’s cheapening somewhat the meaning of the sacred word. On the other hand, he is certainly not indifferent. Moreover, every single organ in his body, every single cell, is letting him know that nothing will be the same again from here on in.
Up until now, Amen always acted as the loyal envoy, not to mention the submissive slave, of the dictates of his mind. It was hard to say that this ever brought him to any especially exciting regions. And what if he now tries to change direction? And if just for once he follows the dictates of his heart and his gut feeling, what could possibly happen? We only live once, don’t we?
Amen poured himself a cup of hot chocolate and took it with him to the armchair facing the TV. His hand rested on the remote control, hit the “ON” button and immediately lowered the volume so as not to awaken the sleeping beauty.
It was 7 a.m. He caught the tail end of the morning news. Amen’s ears heard the broadcaster’s words, but several seconds passed before his brain registered their significance. His eyes opened wide in amazement: “…Once again, here is the announcement with which we opened our newscast. Wild boar hunters found this morning in the Mt. Carmel Forest, not far from the Neve Oranim neighborhood, the decapitated body of a man with gunshot wounds. The body was transferred to the Abu Kabir Institute of Forensic Medicine. Whoever has any information that may help identify the body is asked to contact the nearest police station…”
“A decapitated body of a man, with gunshot wounds!” Amen was all goose bumps. Now he was no longer certain whether the woman lying in his bed on the other side of the wall . . . was the girl of his dreams − or a monster.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
At first sight, it looked like the annual ingathering of the heads of the crime families of the mafia. A second glance gave the same impression, only this time it seemed as if the gang had come together for a masquerade party.
Around the heavy, dark wooden table sat nine men in high-backed chairs. Four on one side, four on the other, and the chairman. All nine looked elderly, aged 70 and over, except for one.
In the dimness of the cellar, in the light of the candles set upon projections along the walls, their faces were hardly visible; some of them had beards, others were clean-shaven, their faces sharp and hard as if carved out of black granite.
The “refreshments” set out on the table were very Spartan. Clear plastic bottles of water and glasses – that was all. There were no ashtrays and not even paper napkins.
The men’s attire was especially striking. Black was the prominent color, but here and there some traces of red, purple, yellow, or orange stood out. These weren’t suits or any other form of street clothes, but rather an assortment of strangely shaped cloaks, yet meticulous and elegant. Their head gear was varied as well: flat skullcaps, brimmed hats, and low, square fezzes.
As no sunlight or moonlight penetrated this room, clearly the head gear was not to protect the men’s bare heads, but rather to indicate their status and faith. However, one of the nine – the youngest of them all – sat with no head covering and was dressed in a regular, but well-tailored business suit.
All those present now faced the chairman at the head of the table.
“Most exalted and honorable eminences,” said the chairman in a high and grating voice. “We are at the threshold of a dramatic breakthrough.” No one moved a muscle; faces remained frozen as they waited to hear the announcement. “As we all recall, at our meeting in Rome two years ago, I was given the task of attaining tools to implement the theo-physio-logical option. Since then I have been punctilious in updating the council every six months, and today I am happy to inform you that we have reached the stage in which these tools are ready for the initial experiment.”
The chairman fell silent. A hushed silence filled the room – a silence that lasted precisely as long as needed to impart the right of speech to those seated around the table, in turn, according to their status and seniority.
“How long until operative steps can be taken?” inquired the man with a low serrated hat that covered a third of his bald head.
“Experts estimate that it will take several months and up to two years until the end product is made available for production and global distribution.”
“What is the state of our budget?” inquired another participant, whose head was wrapped in an orange-brown keffiyah that matched his long galabiya robe, embroidered with gold stripes.
The chairman turned to the young man in the suit and with a nod of his head gave him the right of speech.
“Up until today, $30,000,000 have already been invested,” the young man said in a loud, clear voice. “There is another $5,000,000 in the project’s fund. We will need to raise an additional $10,000,000 until the final stage of implementation. It all falls within the original business plan, which, as it now seems, we won’t be deviating from.”
“Have experiments on humans already begun?” asked a chubby man whose shoulders, despite his erect posture, reached only half the height of the chair’s back rest.
“Not yet,” the young man responded. “I assume we will reach that stage in a number of weeks, or at the most, several months from now.”
“And what about official approvals?” asked the shrimp.
“The project is led by a renowned, recognized research institute. All its activities are carried out within the legal framework of international treaties. All required applications have already been prepared and we expect that their approval will be given about a year after they are submitted.”
“Is the framework in which research is being done aware of the special aspects of our activity? And by the way, is it true that it is located in the Israeli city of Haifa?”
The young man seemed to be losing his patience slightly, but the Cardinal, with a slight nod of his head, instructed him to address the question. “Clearly, the corporation dealing in the development of the product is unaware of our unique objectives, and to the best of my understanding, there is no need for it. As to the location of the labs, the research and production activities are being carried out in several locations around the world…” The well-tailored young man stole a quick glance at the chairman, who, with a nod, confirmed that he needn’t go into further detail.
“The Council is requested today to approve an additional budget of $10,000,000,” the chairman resumed command, “all of which, as we’ve just heard, lies within the original plan. This sum, along with the amount in our fund, should cover all our needs at the implementation level. The division of contributions will be applied as per our usual key. Every member is expected to see to the transfer of the funds within 90 days.”
The chairman glanced at each of the attendees sitting around the table, pausing for several seconds upon each face until a blink of the eyes or a gesture of the chin signaled agreement.
“Well, then, I deem the matter of the budget approved. I wish to express, on behalf of all of us, our gratitude to Mr. Montaigne for his efficient management of the project. Our next meeting will be held in London in another three months’ time. This morning’s session is now adjourned. We will reconvene in the afternoon to discuss other matters on the agenda.”
When everyone stood up to leave, Cardinal Ricardi motioned to the Parisian and his nephew to wait. After taking leave of all the council members and seeing that the room was cleared, the Cardinal once again sat down and gestured to the two Parisians to take their seats as well.
“I’ve been made aware of some disturbing news,” said the Cardinal. “According to my resources, there is a delay in the planned time schedule for the production of the experimental substance in Haifa.”
“The information you received is correct,” Alexander confirmed, careful not to remove his eyes from the Cardinal’s serious, piercing look. “I have already discussed this with my uncle on our way here. I meant to update you on that, of course.”
Cardinal Ricardi remained silent, but did not remove his intense look from the young businessman’s face.
“We were scheduled to receive initial samples of the substance by last Friday, but then suddenly our contact man raised his demands,” Alexander added. He paused again, but as the Cardinal remained silent, he swallowed his saliva and continued, “Tomorrow I return to Haifa and hope to solve the problems within a few days.”
“How much of the substance can be procured?”
“I don’t exactly know,” Alexander finally lowered his eyes away from the Cardinal’s stern gaze. “The woman through whom contact was made doesn’t know, and the chief researcher is not fully cooperating with us. As I said, I believe the full picture will become clear within the next few days.”
Cardinal Ricardi was deep in thought. From the very first day, he had felt a certain repulsion towards this rooster in his fancy suit, even slight disgust. Were it not for the fact that this ambitious young man was the nephew of a well-respected clergyman in Paris, a lofty persona with a spotless reputation, and were it not for the great plan that this young man created and initiated, he would be happy to be rid of him immediately and never set eyes on him again.
But the chairman of the Order of the Seed of Abraham knew too well that he cannot allow himself the luxury of an angry outburst and that he must control his fury. The young Montaigne is nothing more than a tool towards achieving the sacred goal upon which he must now fully and exclusively focus.
The Cardinal looked over at Stefan the First who, until that moment, had minimized his presence as if he were but a shadow on the wall and didn’t make a sound.
“We are invested here in tens of millions of dollars,” the Cardinal raised his voice, which now became higher and more raspy than usual. “We won’t tolerate any setbacks or mistakes.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Amen dozed off a bit with the TV still on. No wonder. Squirming all night on the couch didn’t give his body any rest and only suffused him with the lethargy of a bear in winter.
Half asleep, the sound of running water in the bathroom woke him. The sleeping beauty had awakened. Amen rushed to the bedroom and grabbed a pair of pants from the closet. He smoothed out the creases in his shirt, passed his fingers through his greased hair, and with his pinky removed the vestiges of insufficient sleep from the corners of his eyes.
He returned to the couch and a minute later Osnat walked in, wearing the blue gym suit. Amen stared at her, red-eyed. She very much resembled the woman who had invaded his house the night before, but something was different. The deathly pale complexion of last night was replaced by a face glowing with health. Her pink cheeks and full lips testified to the pampering of a good night’s sleep.
“Good morning,” Amen whispered in a hoarse voice.
“A great morning! “ Osnat stretched out her indulgently flexible arms, further protruding her already protruding breasts. “I can’t believe it,” she said as she flashed a million-dollar smile. “It’s the first time this has ever happened to me.”
